Two Step Plan
by Cold Fire Phoenix
Summary: Kakuzu challenges Hidan to prove the superiority of his ways by using his religion to procure funding for the Akatsuki. In Konoha, Hidan proves his point, but not without incidental crack ensuing.


The first time they met, she'd run away screaming.

So began a beautiful relationship.

"Holy shit. Come on, brat, stay still! I'm not that _fast_!" Frankly, work had sucked lately, and he hadn't been able to even get excited over _God_. And in the theoretical realm of Jashin, this lack of passion could only lead to one result.

The lottery engagement announcement.

Hidan paused, dismissing the thought and realizing perhaps a mite too late he'd lost his quarry. He sighed, massaging his forehead and trying to force the tension out of his shoulders. From Kakuzu's viewpoint, he clearly was failing. Then again, so was one of his hearts. (Which was most inconvenient.)

"We don't have time for this, Hidan," Kakuzu said, arms crossed and displeasure clearly written into his face (or eyes, as they could indeed be seen). "And time is-"

"Time is money, yes, I get the fucking saying already. And _you_ know time is prayer-time, and I'd be fucked nine ways toward Sunday if I wasn't up on my quota."

"And you _will_ be fucked nine ways toward Sunday if _I_ don't meet _my _quota. Unless you plan on making money from this... Religion of yours."

"Jashin doesn't allow for working outside the faith."

"Then work _inside_ the faith."

"What? Convert the heathen masses?" Hidan looked up, raising an eyebrow. His lips drew back into a smile, showing his eyeteeth far too clearly for comfort.

"I was more thinking fortune telling or voodoo dolls, but sure."

Initially, the idea sounded like shit. "That sounds like utter shit, Kakuzu. The fuck?" Only then, Hidan thought about the idea, and realized it could be brilliant. "Wait, that could be brilliant! You fucking genius, Kakuzu!"

Kakuzu was not likewise impressed, though he shrugged magnanimously and turned back toward his goal (due North-North-East). "Hark! What light through yonder window breaks? Tis the veritable East, and-"

"Kakuzu."

The patchwork man looked toward the other, who frowned and tapped his scythe in annoyance. "What?"

"There is no motherfucking window."

"...Hidan."

"What?"

"Close your mouth before I find my needle and thread and _force_ you to shut up."

"I'd ask what crawled up your ass and died, but I don't actually want to know."

And through mutual discussion, they resumed their pacing in the leisurely manner of the slightly insane with an agenda. Though the faint irony they had in landing themselves on the outskirts of Konoha would have passed right over them both if Hidan hadn't been around.

"Hey, Kakuzu, isn't this the village where the pesky fucking brat with the Kyuubi in his stomach is from?"

Kakuzu looked at Hidan, eyes narrowed. "Perhaps."

"So this is where the guy who shoved his arm through your chest and crushed one of your hearts is from, right?"

His eyes narrowed further. "_Perhaps_."

"Meaning this is the same village who produced the smoking ass-scum I defeated while you stood around contemplating passing my head back to me before Leader-shit-face showed up and destroyed the nice little party to pass the three-tailed monstrosity to our little bound-up friend in the cave?"

Kakuzu's eyes were now slits. "**Perhaps**."

"Oh?" Hidan smiled, resting the scythe on his shoulder and surveyed all which lay before him. "_Nice_."

There was a long pause, and then Hidan pulled at his earlobe. "Kakuzu.."

The other man (well, assumably, he could be part zombie, part harpy, and part mer-man for all anyone _really_ knew) ground his teeth together. "What."

"We are going in, right?"

"..."

"And we will need to be undercover, right?"

"..."

"And they are having an appropriately timed Clown Convention, _right?_"

"...I am not dressing up like a clown."

"What the fuck?" Hidan frowned, drawing back from Kakuzu in disgust. "I was thinking of killing the bastards, not fucking imitating them. They're not even _worth_ sacrificing to God! What a fucking riot, dress up like a clown? Keep your disgusting little thoughts to yourself, Kakuzu; I don't want shit to do with hearing your sick little fantasies. You are going to hell, you realize?"

"I've been under that impression from you for quite some time."

"It's not too late to convert, asswipe."

"Forgive me for not wishing to partake in your time-consuming-"

"Money wasting?"

"-money wasting," Kakuzu conceded, "Blood play."

Hidan grinned, eying his erstwhile partner out of the corner of his eyes. "Blood play? Merely worship, my heathen-friend. Obviously far too mysterious for you to fucking understand. That shit's hard, harder than any fucking money-grunging."

A nerve had been struck. A glove had been swept off a hand and slammed across an innocent cheek. A challenge had been issued from the mountain-tops! "Really?" Kakuzu crossed his arms, the edge of his amusement present in his very stance, which was both brave and fearsome and angelic all at once.

"No shit, really." Hidan held his hands in the air, providing his own quotation marks. "'Really,' Kakuzu. Are you deaf?"

"Possibly. But that is not the point here." He turned his head, looking down over the glory that was not Konoha. "The point is, Hidan, you and me, we're two guys, in the woods. And God knows what happens in the woods."

Hidan sneered. "Sacrifices to Jashin?"

"**No!**" Kakuzu held out one arm, as if to forestall movement which Hidan was not inclined toward anyway. "No, my narrow-minded religious fool of a partner. Something far more _devious_ than a simple sacrifice to your perverse God." He adjusted his cloak, as if feeling an impending chill. "Or shall I say... A conversion, to your perverse God?"

"Wait – the fuck, you serious man?" For all he lit up, Hidan could have been the world when God muttered, "Let there be light." "You'll repent your sins and go through the fasting, rituals, and initiation into the Faith and cease being such a stuck-up prick?"

Kakuzu twitched. "Sure. But-" he continued, cutting into Hidan's near-sinful glee, "On one condition."

There was a sudden sobering. Hidan narrowed his eyes, stroking the length of his... scythe. "Name your price, Money-bags."

"You know me well. Fill this, before nightfall." He reached into his cloak, pulling out a seemingly innocuous scroll. Then, with a deft flick of his wrist, the scroll flew open and spat a narrow black suitcase out at an unreasonable velocity. Hidan didn't dodge in time, looking fairly surprised as the heavy case hit his chest and bowled him over and set him rolling down the hill. "Kakuzu- You- **Bastard!**"

Kakuzu thought of offering a few sympathetic winces for the religious fanatabrat, but couldn't muster the feeling in any of his remaining four hearts. Speaking of which, he needed to find another donor...

Meanwhile, Hidan had hid rock bottom (literally) outside Konoha's wall. "Fucking Kakuzu!" He groaned, rubbing over what might have been his kidney. "Fucking rocks!" He kicked one to feel better. Vaguely, he did, considering he'd launched the rock into the air and brained some idiot on the wall. Though Jashin would rather there be a proper sacrifice, a mild thought and simpleton's death would do much in getting several good words in with the higher ups.

"Fucking Konoha."

"Pardon?" The young mother who had heard his exclamation drew her child close. (Entering had been a fairly simple matter of not being seen, repressing his chakra, and waving his hand around in front of someone's face, saying, "I am not dangerous." The person's response had been, "Fuck you, Candyman," and Hidan had barely managed to not snap their neck and make them watch as he used their entrails to draw several all-important signs on the ground and surrounding buildings.)

"Oh." Hidan attempted to smile nicely, and ended up seeming more like a befuddled old man confronted with impotence. "I mean, 'Konoha! Fuck yeah!'"

He didn't really understand _why_ she'd huffed and moved off at such a speed. He _had_ complimented her goddamn city, hadn't he? Fucking heathens.

He stalked off, in search of someplace to begin gathering "funds" to shove in Kakuzu's smug little face.

Only, lacking any half-way decent plan, Hidan found himself on a street corner holding a suitcase, whatever was in the suitcase, and nothing much else.

Now, how to sell religion...

He sat down, opening the suitcase and began taking stock of what lay inside. So far, two paintbrushes, a pestle, and a stick of black ink.

Kakuzu. What a guy.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with this shit?" A giggle sounded somewhere above him, and he frowned. He looked up, glaring. Some red-haired little shit with two of her friends caught his glare and turned around and ran.

"Wait – Uh, religion! With benefits?"

They didn't stop, and Hidan flipped them off. Fuck the heathens. None of 'em had the good sense to want to be saved.

His luck continued on much the same for the next hour, when a familiar red-head touted her ass back through his area, sans friends. This time, she didn't run, but came closer, and he wanted to about scream his relief.

"Are you interested in saving your soul, brat?"

She stared at him. He sighed.

"Benefits?"

"Er, no, the soul."

He stared at her. She sighed.

"...and the benefits."

"Well," he said, rolling the world around on his tongue as if to see if she'd take off at the first sign of actual explanation. "Jashin is seeing how all you dirtbags deprived of the light of the Truth are going straight to the hell of your least fancy on dying if you don't wise up and start properly worshiping God."

His wide-eyed audience of one nodded her head.

So he continued. He spoke of dangling in Truth and Righteousness above what looked quite like heaven, felt quite like hell. Of blood and understanding, saving and purifying, paying respect and praying (he showed his beads then) and understanding the Will and the Way.

And she sat there, listening, absolutely absorbed. Occassionaly, she spoke up. Such as now. "Does faith make you stronger, Priest-sama?"

Hidan felt a thrill of electricity jolt through him. This little brat actually seemed... interested. "Sure, faith makes you stronger."

"Strong enough to avenge my clan?"

Uh... "Of course."

"And to become Hokage?"

Well, likely, but who the hell wanted to be Hokage when they were of the Faith? "Probably."

"And to protect my friends and precious people?"

"If by 'friends and precious people' you mean God."

"And make me immortal?"

"Yes, and make you fucking immortal!"

Moegi's eyes lit up, then she frowned. "Hey! That's a bad word!" She paused. "Would this Jashin also make my," and she made a vague gesture around her chest, "Ya know..."

Hidan twitched. Really. Maybe he should just kill her now, even if she was the only creature to show interest in the Truth. "Listen, you little moron. Jashin will fucking kill your father if you need him dead. God is just that dick-cool. Do you fucking understand that?"

Her eyes widened, and she nodded very slowly. "Wow... I could be a size D with Jashin!"

He buried his face in his hands. Holy fucking hell. (Heathens.) "Sure, little girl. Whatever you want."

"Great! Where do I sign up?"

Shit. He hadn't thought this through. "Uh... Here." He pointed to himself. The young woman blinked, tilting her head to the side. He wanted to ask if her pigtails ever tried to run away or if they'd been born in a lightning storm. Or, hell, if she had.

"Here?" She pointed at his chest, befuddled.

"Yeah, what-the-fuck-ever. Just sign and you'll get your first step in the 2 Step Jashin How-To-Not-Go-To-Hell Plan." He handed her the paintbrush and ink. She looked between the two, apparently confused, then looked back up at Hidan.

"Uh..." She held the pestle toward him. "The ink..."

The ink? Slowly, Hidan understood. She needed water, or something, to make the ink. So he did the most logical thing he could think of – Hidan hocked a woogie.

Moegi stared at the glob of spittle and swallowed deeply.

Hidan arched a brow. "What."

She said nothing, just slowly looked back at the pestle and placed the brush in her mouth. Hidan waited in bland impatience for her to grind the ink into some usability, watching the black slowly foam and settle into what _must_ have been a nice, pleasing shade. Really, he didn't give a fuck – the signing was for the brat's benefit, not his own. He reached out, slapping the top of her hand with the paintbrush he pulled out of her mouth. "Enough. Just get on with it, already." He blanched. His hand was wet. Disgusting. _Heathen_-juices. He wiped his hand on his shirt after she took the brush back.

"Then should I-"

"Yes, fine, what-fucking-_ever_," he interrupted. "Geez, what the hell is with the converts these-" he drew in breath abruptly. "Fuck! That _tickles_!"

Moegi had bent over, painting her name on his chest. "I'm sorry, Priest-sama. Should I press harder?"

He hissed. "_Finish_."

She nodded, said, "Hai!" and continued painting. Hidan twitched, not enjoying the feeling of spittle and ink (at least it was _his_ spittle, not unholy heathen _slobber_) on his skin. Not the same texture as blood, and certainly not as warm.

Could the little idiot take any longer? She continued writing, lower and lower and lower and – wait, the fuck? His hand shot out, closing around her wrist and stopping her brush's movement. "What are you doing?"

Moegi frowned, twisting her wrist. "Kanji, Priest-sama."

Hidan narrowed his eyes. "So _low_?"

She blinked. "Mother always told me to write in one straight line, Priest-sama."

He bet her mother taught her that. "You're done."

"But I haven't finished-"

"You're _done_." He released her hand and almost snatched back the brush, but determined some sacrifices were worth paying for and stood with a disgusted look plastered on his face. "Go on. Get to it."

"To what, Priest-sama?" She clutched the brush and looked behind her, as if expecting to find someone else he was addressing.

"To gathering the funds."

"The funds?"

Damnit. He had to explain shit, didn't he? "For your initiation rites. Into Jashin. Here." He kicked the suitcase toward her. "Fill that with valuables, cash, whatever. When you can barely lift close the little fucker, you should have enough."

Moegi crouched down and looked the suitcase over. "This doesn't look holy..."

"It's just a fucking suitcase, not Luggage."

"Oh. Priest-sama, how am I going to fill this?"

Hidan rolled his eyes. "Pray, dipshit. And be back here by five. We don't like waiting." Now, technically, he meant himself and Kakuzu. If Moegi misunderstood him... Hardly his fault.

Her eyes opened wide and she nodded her head, dashing off with the suitcase and brush in hand.

Hidan had a feeling he'd never see the brat again. Eh, he'd just kill her if she didn't cough up the cash in time. Whatever the fuck her name was, anyway. He glanced down at his chest, but could only see a smear of black paint and frowned. Where was the fucking bath-house?

So it was that Kakuzu continued hunting down another semi-willing heart-donor while Hidan kicked it in the hot springs and Moegi learned the wonders of prayer. She prayed for something to reveal itself, and found a few coins in the middle of the road. Finding prayer to work once, she stared at her hands, then the sky, then fell to her knees and tried again.

That was when the blind man tottered past and dumped the interior of his wallet into her briefcase. Then the young man had run by and tossed some rather large, bagged objects inside, flashing a grin before disappearing down the street. Moegi was so helpful as to point out his direction to the men who came along the road moments later, waving them goodbye and pleasantly surprised to realize she was almost halfway full and it wasn't even ten in the morning.

Yet her knees hurt so she closed the suitcase and moved further down the road to sit down on a bench, and pray some more. Of course, not quite sure what constituted as prayer and what did not, she kept an eye on everyone else's doings and imitated whatever seemed to be a symbol of "dear god grant me victory in my roll" (she'd stumbled into the gambling part of town).

Her latest prayer was granted when a red-faced older man picked her up and asked for her company as a symbol of luck (he said her hair was lucky, and that such body was indicative of a sprightly spirit) and went high-rolling and won considerable amounts of money. At which point, he gifted her with a small portion, which when she prayed a little harder, turned out to be _exactly_ as much as she needed to fill the chest. (Surely, for God, prayer at the driving end of a kunai was perfectly alright.)

_Darn_, she thought to herself, _This Jashin thing really does have something. Must be fate._

Thus at four-thirty, Moegi showed up at the exact corner where she'd encountered her Priest, smiling and ready to learn step two.

Hidan didn't bother showing up until five-thirty, mostly because things had gotten a little out of hand at the hotsprings and he'd had to make a short trip into another guise to explain away a few awkward bleeding incidents. (Fuck, and not one successful _sacrifice_ to show for all his effort.)

To find Moegi sitting patiently, with an over-full suitcase, was both a good and bad thing for him. In a way, he'd just won and proved the superiority of religion to financial pilfering, but on the other hand, now he had to invent a step two.

Then, he was struck by a stroke of brilliance. And in this striking, he came to speaking as Moegi happily grinned up at him, offering the suitcase.

"Step two, little alcolyte," he said, grinning with a barely-masked ferality, "Is to find me seven years from now."

Moegi was dumbstruck. "What?" She revised her statement. "_How_?"

Hidan turned, nonchalance incarnate. "If God wills it, so it will be." And then the flippant remark. "God works in mysterious ways."

He was gone, leaving Moegi to stare gaping at the man who she belatedly was realizing had just hoodwinked her something horrible.

"What a motherfucking _twink_!" Moegi covered her own mouth, quickly looking around. No one had heard her.

Good. Maybe no one had seen her, either. Though still... She closed her eyes, and sent a brief prayer skyward.

_Help me get good enough to done right go and kick the ass of your most assholic servant ever, God. _She opened one eye, looking at the sky. A cloud moved. Her eye slammed shut. _And P.S.. Thanks for all the dough._

Seven years later, Hidan would feel the strangest sensation of de-ja-vu sitting down for an impromptu lunch on a hillside. And he'd remember a little pre-pubescent brat from long ago as a wire would invade his personal space and encircle his throat to the accompaniment of a woman' melodic, ironic voice. "God works in mysterious ways, asswipe." Then the wire would tighten, and barely begin to draw blood. "You picked the wrong twelve-year-old to screw with, _Priest-sama._"

Well, Hidan reflected with a scowl, at least today would be _interesting._


End file.
